


Fever

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha! Ginny, Alpha! Harry, Beta! Ron, F/M, Knotting, Mates, Mating Dynamics, Omega! Hermione, Though Hermione and Harry Get Together Basically Instantly, Zero Infidelity, and more smut, eighth year, smut smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: So what if it's just one thing after another? Learning she's an Omega isn't going to change her life. It's not going to control her. Hermione Granger is rarely wrong, but when she is - oh, she's really missed the mark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for The Harmony Shag-A-Thon, hosted by the Facebook group, Harmony & Co. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> Thank you to Elle Morgan-Black for helping me through messages to discover what I wanted to write.
> 
> Thank you AirplaneFoodBlackMarket for betaing.
> 
> Warnings: A/B/O. If that is not your thing, I don't want you to get farther than this. There is a moment where another male character attempts to force himself on Hermione as she begins to present.

 

* * *

Chapter One:

Hermione knew Harry and Ron would not have returned to Hogwarts if it weren't for her. There was something to be said that even Ginny's pleading hadn't changed Harry's mind of going straight into Auror training, but Hermione's had.

Both boys stood on either side of her as they waited on the platform for the Hogwarts Express. Truthfully, she'd thought that the sight of the familiar scarlet train would calm her nerves, but it didn't. None of them had seen the castle since the day of May 2nd, and really, the thought of setting foot in the Great Hall made her stomach turn.

"Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, his finger brushing against the inside of her palm. "Are you okay?"

Ron glanced at her, his brows drawing together, and he took her hand into his.  _As any good boyfriend should_ , Hermione reminded herself.

She schooled her features and nodded, a fake smile gracing her face. "There's a sense of nostalgia being here," she said, flinching at the sound of the engine while the train wheezed to a stop in front of them.

On the platform, there must have been a record low for students returning for another term. The news had been all over the Prophet, how some families would be sending their children to other Wizarding schools, and she realized that there might not be any other muggleborns attending that year. So many records inside of the Ministry had been destroyed amidst Voldemort's short, but terrifying reign.

And if there had been any muggleborns to attend… she wondered if their parents had heard what occurred over the last several years. If her parents were in the position, they would have taken Hermione home as quickly as they could, fear bright in their eyes and hearts in their throats.

If her parents remembered they had a daughter, they would have done exactly that, even now. Unfortunately, they would never remember her now. The toll of memory modification was too great, and mind healers had given her the terrible news a week after the final battle.

"Mione," Harry hissed in her ear, squeezing her shoulder.

"What?" she muttered, coming out of her head to see Ron had gone to join his family. Molly had her arms thrown tightly around his shoulders, tears already slipping down her face.

Only his parents and Ginny were there. George would be locked away in the room he had shared with his twin. Bill and Charlie returned to Shell Cottage and Romania respectively at the end of the summer, and as far as Hermione knew, Percy was working himself near to death in the Ministry to prove himself.

"You're spacing out. Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked her. His grip slipped from her shoulder as Ginny made her way toward them with a bright smile.

Hermione swallowed, not completely sure what was wrong. She'd known for months that her parents would never know her, and she'd known for months that returning to Hogwarts would be either therapeutic or traumatic-a flip of a galleon as it was. So she went for the first thing that came to mind. "I'm just expecting my parents to appear to wish me a good term."

Harry's eyes widened behind the wire frames of his glasses before they softened. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Before he could say another word, Ginny slammed into him. They were a sight for anyone on the platform, students, parents, and especially Rita Skeeter.

One could only assume she was penning an article on the return to Hogwarts, and Skeeter haunted Ron, Hermione, and Harry like a shadow.

"I missed you." Ginny squealed, squeezing Harry tightly once he caught her.

Hermione nodded to him, moving away from the couple. She didn't want to interrupt a private moment. Harry mouthed to her that he would see her on the train, and Hermione turned away.

* * *

Hermione tucked herself away on the train in an abandoned compartment. Warding the door so no one would walk in, she set her prefect pin on the table and flipped open a novel. And so the train ride went. Outside the train door, she'd heard Ron's voice asking where his girlfriend had gone, followed by an equally familiar sneer voicing the opinion that maybe she'd had her fill with Weasley.

She sighed at Malfoy's intrusion, completely unsurprised. The blonde was still a prick, had been even following his trial where she'd stood in his defence with Harry. While Draco Malfoy would never be a friend, he had apologized for his behaviour regarding blood superiority in the corridor outside of the Wizengamot. Suffice to say, he would not call her a mudblood ever again, but he would still take digs at her hair and overall swottiness.

She could live with that.

It wasn't until the feast in the Great Hall that Hermione reunited with her friends, sitting between Harry and Ron as she had nearly every year. Neville smiled from his seat in front of her as he sipped his pumpkin juice. Ginny was whispering to Harry, gripping his hand tightly beneath the table, but Harry's hand was merely resting in her grip.

It was strange, considering they hadn't been able to keep their hands to themselves after the war.

Headmistress McGonagall stood at the podium, clearing her throat. That was all it took to quiet the hall. She looked over the students, fondly glancing at her own house before nodding to the others. Her grimace at the lacklustre turn out of the Slytherin house was mostly missed.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, or, if this is your first year, welcome to Hogwarts," she spoke, adjusting the brim of her black hat. Behind her sat the Sorting Hat, perched on a stool. "We will begin the sorting ceremony shortly, but before we do, I have an announcement." The crowd of students rippled, and whispers began to circulate throughout the hall.

"What do you think it is?" Ron asked, none too quietly.

Harry shrugged. His time being in the loop was over when it came to the Heads of Hogwarts.

"If you would be quiet, you might find out!" Hermione snapped.

Ron pulled his hand from where it rested on her enrobed thigh and scowled.

"Typically, this is discussed in your seventh year, but due to the war, it wasn't possible." Immediately, Hermione's attention was piqued. Whatever the announcement was, it didn't sound like it was something she would have uncovered in books. "It has come to my attention from the healers of St Mungo's that maturation was delayed last year —" there were several groans throughout the hall, including Ron right beside her — " _don't_  presume you know what I'm about to say." Headmistress McGonagall's eyes narrowed.

"All eighth years and seventh years are to report to their Heads of House at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. Your morning classes will be cancelled. If you're in Gryffindor, you will come to me in the Transfiguration classroom."

Hermione found she wasn't able to focus throughout the rest of the feast.

* * *

To say that she was livid would have been putting it mildly.

"This is bullshite!" Hermione snapped. She'd knocked her chair over from standing up so quickly. The entire room fell silent as she did not break eye contact with her former professor. "Headmistress, this is —"

"Miss Granger, I understand that you're upset, but this is no way to behave. You know more than anyone that lashing out is not proper behaviour for a prefect."

Yes, of course, she knew that. Hermione exhaled a deep breath, calmly removing the red pin that she had painstakingly fastened to her robes an hour earlier. "I apologize for yelling, Headmistress McGonagall."

"Very well. Now that we've ripped the - Miss Granger?" she broke off, her eyes widening as Hermione laid the pin on the table in front of her. "Am I correct in my understanding?"

Hermione wouldn't cry. She'd been through far too much over the last year for this to do her in. "I would rather snap my own wand than be mounted on another bloody hierarchy." her voice was level, calm, and she could feel several stares burning into her back. It wasn't rational to sweep out of the classroom as she did, but what she was hearing was the furthest thing from rational.

She stormed down the corridor without a mind of where to go. Already, regret took over. To say she would snap her wand was no joking matter, and she couldn't stand to be called a hypocrite either. Ducking into a darkened alcove, she slid to the stone floor and brought her knees to her chest.

Never - not once in all her years in Hogwarts had she lashed out at a professor. Well, admittedly she had set Professor Snape on fire - a wonderful tidbit of information that had once made Sirius Black bow at her feet.

"You're not very good at hiding spots." Harry stepped into the alcove with her, coming to sit at her side. He picked up her hand and pressed the shiny pin into her palm. "McGonagall asked me to come after you."

She nodded. "I thought she would have sent Ron."

Harry plucked his glasses from his face, cleaning the lenses on his robes. "I think she considered it, but she told him to put his bum back in his chair when he tried to chase you."

"I'm sure he took that well." Hermione fidgeted, picking at her fingernails. "As much as I hate it, I wasn't just saying I would snap my wand. To learn that there's more to this than just purebloods, half-bloods, and mudbloods —"

He cut her off fiercely. "I don't want to  _ever_  hear you refer to yourself that way again." His shoulder pressed against hers. "Mione, I understand why you're angry. You don't know if you'll be at the bottom, maybe, that's not what matters here, is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not angry if I'm at the bottom. I'm angry I'm on it at all. Why do we need to be put in these neat little boxes?"

Harry sighed, snaking an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him. Resting his chin on her head, he murmured, "I don't have an answer for that."

Her eyes stung with tears. "I don't want to be anything other than Hermione, a witch. I don't want to be an Alpha, Beta, or Omega." She didn't voice how she had everything to protest with the last designation. "She says that Omegas shouldn't be thought of as the bottom rung on the ladder, Harry."

"They're prized," he sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You're worried you'll be considered as a possession. Hermione, Ron and I would never let someone treat you like that."

There was a quiet hiccup in the small, enclosed space. "Fuck, this is madness."

He combed through her curls the best he could, as messy as they were. "I agree, but you can't snap your wand. I wouldn't survive a week without you."

She snorted, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. "As long as another Dark Lord doesn't rise, you'll be okay."

"Well," he sighed, "I am entering auror training at the end of the year. You never know. Plus, you realize I would miss you terribly?"

It felt as if something twitched inside her chest, like a taut string being drawn back and released. Hermione peered up at him. "Your lens is cracked," she rasped, her throat dry.

"Ron stepped on them this morning. I was only able to repair one side before rushing to the meeting." Harry grinned as she gently slid them off his face.

Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve, pointing to where the glasses rested on the solid floor. " _Repairo_." The crack vanished, and only after she'd placed them back on his face did she stop to think she should have just handed them back to him. "I won't snap my wand," she muttered, looking away.

Hermione wasn't willing to admit out loud she felt she'd overreacted. The information that had been dropped on her still felt like a heavy weight to bear.

He smirked. "Good girl."

If she hadn't run from the meeting, she would have known then what the tingle up her spine meant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Hermione couldn't imagine wanting to know what designation you were, much less seeking out the answers. Yet that's what a chunk of Hogwarts did.

The alpha-beta-omega situation, as she liked to call it, was one of the better-kept secrets of the wizarding world. Each time the topic came up, she wanted to knock her head against the nearest surface. Another component of the madness that irritated her to no end was that any child who had been raised around magic already knew.

Being a muggleborn had never angered her. The hand dealt to her had been the winning hand in the very end, but she wished that she could stop feeling like the universe was out to get her.

Harry knew he was an Alpha by the end of the second week. Coincidentally, during the same week, on the same day even, Ginny realized she was also an Alpha. Their fight at a quidditch match, where the two of them tore into one another, became one of the castle's best kept secrets, whispered rumors amplified amid breathless accounts of their conflict. It was just the scent of one another throwing the other off, Madam Pomfrey said.

While Hermione believed that, she wasn't so sure that their relationship was going to work out. The tension between them was visible at all times, the casualness of their relationship already gone. They fought like fucking mad: over quidditch, over lessons, assignments, recently over Hermione.

She wasn't at all sure how the fight had steered toward her, but Hermione had heard it from the end of the corridor as she exited the dungeons from Potions.

There was mostly unintelligible screaming.

Ginny insisted Harry was focusing on his female best friend more than his own girlfriend.

"No," Hermione protested, keeping her distance, as the fiery redhead had recently earned a reputation for losing her temper. She didn't want to be near a fight if it broke out. "Harry has hardly been around me, Ginny."

It was telling how Harry said nothing at all in his defence. Instead, he threw his hands up and walked away.

Ginny fixed her with a hard glare that softened as Hermione stared at the hem of her robes. "Hermione, I'm not angry with you. You don't understand what's going on."

She blinked. "But I—"

"Just stop!" Ginny snapped, her anger flaring back up. "You think you can bloody understand everything just by reading a book. First, it was house elves with your ridiculous spew, and now it's the designations."

"I didn't know you felt that way," Hermione replied stiffly, already turning away. She wasn't so hurt that tears sprang to her eyes, but with the crowd that had gathered, Hermione would have quite liked to hex Ginny.

Ginny snorted. "Of course. Merlin, you're so bloody oblivious. It's always been obvious that you are from —"

Hermione didn't know when Harry had circled back; all she knew was that bright green eyes landed on her while she was ripped out of the volatile situation. " _Enough,_ " he growled, his fingers circling her wrist. "Ginny,"

His girlfriend's eyes had narrowed. "Sorry," she muttered, and turned on her heel.

Harry led Hermione away from the crowd, despite her protests that he should really be with his girlfriend. He wouldn't hear her arguments as he made his way down a corridor. "Just stop, 'Mione. She's in the wrong and I'm not interested in reassuring her that our relationship is perfectly okay."

She stopped in place, wrenching her arm free, staring at him. Her eyebrows drew together. "Harry, the two of you haven't stopped fighting since —"

"Don't," he warned, staring down at her and taking a step toward her.

Her spine met the stone, the curves of her back pressing flush against the wall as he towered over her. Hermione squared her shoulders, peering up at him. Merlin, she could remember how it wasn't so long ago that she had been taller than  _him_. "Don't what?" she hissed. "Should I not talk about things I don't understand?"

His eyes were a brilliant green as they flashed, his palms slamming down on either side of her head while he dipped his head.

She swore her heartbeat wasn't quickening. Instead, she lifted her chin, her hands balling into fists beneath the long sleeves of her Gryffindor robes.

His reply was soft in comparison to the laughter echoing down the corridor. "You really shouldn't, and you know I'm not talking from the same perspective as Ginny."

She glared. "Then just what perspective are you speaking from, Harry? Do you believe I'm just as oblivious as she says because I'm a muggleborn? For Merlin's sake, she was treating me as if I was nothing! As if she believed I was just a mud—"

"I told you to never call yourself that." he rasped, hand dropping and curling a strand of her hair around his finger. "What I mean is that you can't understand how - or what she means because you're not an Alpha."

Her nose crinkled in disgust. "How would you know? I haven't been tested for it yet." Hermione said, her tone haughty and her hands poised on her hips. "Do you… do you know?" Truly, she had never considered making the trip to Madam Pomfrey and having the test performed. Well, only once at midnight had she considered it, after hearing Lavender gush about what sleeping with an Alpha was like.

It rattled her in ways she didn't expect.

Harry exhaled heavily. "I don't know for sure, but I know you're not an Alpha. As bossy and demanding as you may be, you're too small."

She snorted. "Ginny isn't…" Come to think of it she had noticed the girl experiencing a delayed growth spurt since the beginning of the term. "Okay. I still don't understand why she's so angry with me."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I couldn't tell you."

Hermione was pretty sure he was hiding something from her.

* * *

Two weeks later, Hermione felt like she had stumbled upon a time turner and fallen back into the past. It started with Ron asking her what she thought of his visiting the hospital wing. She was supportive, stepping into the role as his doting girlfriend and waiting while the test was performed.

It felt like an eternity, waiting for the vial to turn colours. She already knew what each meant. Red for an Alpha, blue for a Beta, and violet for an Omega.

Pomfrey had offered to take care of them both at once, but Hermione had ripped away from the Hogwarts matron as if her touch would burn her. Shaking her head, she quietly tucked herself into Ron's side.

Beta.

She had half expected the result. After coming to terms with the events around her, coupled with Harry having pointed out that size factored into a designation, it was the most logical explanation.

Ron had been okay with the truth for perhaps a half hour. His resolve came crumbling down with the first person, a lower year, to mention that of  _course,_  Ron Weasley was a Beta if Harry bloody Potter was an Alpha.

He was angry his best mate was 'better' than him, angry that his younger sister ranked higher than him, and her pointing out that it was all hogwash anyway had only caused him to yell at her.

Things went downhill from there as Harry intervened, snapping that she had done nothing wrong and that this needn't be another Triwizard Tournament affair.

And maybe, just  _maybe_ , she mused sarcastically, Harry shouldn't have been so quick to lash out. Yelling that Ron's jealousy was childish and ridiculous had come to a head in the midst of a quidditch match, one that ended with a bludger nearly breaking all of the ribs on Harry's right side.

They hadn't spoken since.

And she was really, really tired of standing between them.

* * *

"Ron," she sighed, rubbing her temples as she reached for her self inking quill. "I understand you're upset, but don't you think this has gone on long enough?"

Her boyfriend, though she could laugh at the term given the strain they were currently under, sat beside her in the library. His book sat forgotten in front of him, already shut and precariously close to falling off of the edge. "No." he replied, his tone clipped, and he scowled.

Children, both of them. "You should apologize." Hermione murmured, casting a long look toward where Madam Pince would be lurking, organizing the shelves.

"No." he hissed, grabbing the leg of her chair and pulling her close to him. "He hasn't apologized."

Hermione wanted to throttle him. "What does he have to apologize for? It's not as if he can help it, Ronald. This is just like when he had to participate in the Triwizard Championship. It's hardly his fault when the only thing that can be blamed is old magic."

"Do you have to be so fucking rational about it? It's like you're cut off from emotions!" Ron yelled, his knee slamming into the underside of the table.

Madam Pince kicked him out of the library immediately, colour rising to her cheeks as she shooed him though the door.

She buried her face in her hands, muttering to herself that this was bloody lovely. She could already hardly talk to Harry for fear of making things worse with Ginny, and she was still grossly out of the loop when it came to their struggles. Then there was the lingering suspicion that Ron wouldn't be calming down for several days.

The entirety of Hogwarts had gone fucking mad. and there was nothing she wanted more than to go back in time and end this ridiculous turn of biology before it came to fruition.

* * *

Hermione made her way down the corridors, gazing out of the window to see the moon hanging in the sky, barely peeking through wispy clouds. She paused to revel in the silence. Strangely, she hadn't caught one student out of bed tonight. Normally, ever since the educational institution had been turned on its head, she would find her fellow 'eighth years' holed up in an alcove or a cupboard.

Alphas weren't the worst offenders, strangely. Worse were the girls who wanted to continue their late nights.

Moving on, she wrapped her arms around her waist and began to wrap up her rounds.

The castle was silent, not even the whisper of restless portraits or ghosts flitting through the corridors. The silence gave her time to ponder the final battle, and as much as she loathed to remember, it felt like a betrayal to forget.

She knocked a stone out of the way with the tip of her shoe, freezing mid-step.

Someone was behind her.

"Hello?" Hermione asked, pulling her wand from her sleeve. She whirled around, but there was no one there. Just the empty corridor and the eerie quiet. "I already heard you. Stalking the Head Girl is only going to earn you detention."

There was a rustling.  _Disillusionment charm,_ she thought to herself. Hermione planted her feet, just like her primary teacher had taught her. " _Finite!"_

In the same moment the spell slipped away, a shriek fell from her lips. Hands gripped her forearms, sharp nails digging into her skin as she tried to yank away. It didn't work. In the dimly lit passage, she couldn't see their face.

"Let go of me." she hissed, turning her head away as -

He was nuzzling her neck. Hermione knew it was a man by the hard set of his body, rocking against her, the harsh level of his breathing crawling across the base of her throat. His head dipped, his tongue darting out as he traced her clavicle as he tugged her jumper down. "You smell sweet."

It was a rumbling, shuddering rasp that she barely recognized after years of taunts.

Hermione kicked the shit out of him, the toe of her trainers slamming against his shins.

Flint clamped a hand down over her mouth when she screamed, the blood-curdling sound ricocheting against stone walls. It was a fierce echo, and she could only hope someone would come to investigate.

It wasn't the normal scream that accompanied a witch.

Hermione didn't like to admit that she was scared. After all, she had been through worse than this, a war, torture at the hand of fully mad blood purist. This -  _this_ paled in comparison to writhing on the floor while she begged.

She tried to think rationally, unable to reach her wand and unable to wriggle free.

Her voice broke when she begged for him to just let her go.

It ended as soon as it began.

Had she not been squeezing her eyes shut, desperate to ignore what she couldn't control, she would have seen the dark silhouette coming up behind Flint

He was tossed from her, a pronounced crack sounding as he landed wrong, his arm twisted around his back.

Hermione slid down the wall, her trembling fingers raising to her mouth.

Harry stood in front of her, his shoulders taut and his jaw clenched in a grim line. She'd seen him angry before - seven years of friendship had exposed her to everything - but this was different. Rather than holding his wand, his fists were clenched. "Are you okay?" Harry asked.

She couldn't speak for fear her voice would crack. Hermione shook her head. Her heart was still lodged in her throat, her legs would surely collapse beneath her if she stood, and her thoughts were scrambled.

Hardy handed her the invisibility cloak, the wispy material sliding through her fingers. It was cool to the touch. "That's okay; I want you to go to your dorm."

"I should take him to—"

He shook his head, crouching down in front of her. He cupped her face and smiled. "I'll take care of him. Right now, I need you to take care of yourself."

Hermione couldn't have explained why she listened, not really. But she'd listened, and only stopped in her tracks when she made it to the next floor.

Frustrated and curious, she wrapped the cloak around herself and waited.

* * *

Harry took forever, even for her. She wasn't normally one to deal with that word, considering it was almost always used in exaggeration.

But really, fifty-two minutes felt like a long time when all he needed to do was take Marcus Flint to the headmistress.

He rounded the corner, his features still contorted in anger, but his hands were tucked into his pockets. "Hermione?" Harry stopped right in front of her.

She let the fabric fall, not noticing her jumper was ripped and the fabric laid open. It revealed more than she would have liked, but some witches wore their shirts unbuttoned like that anyway. "How did you know I was here?"

He smiled, nodding behind him and leading her into an alcove. "I don't want Filch to find us."

Hermione could see the reason behind that. "How did you know I was there?"

Harry shrugged. "Same way I knew you were in danger."

"How?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, heavily sighing. "I don't want to have this conversation, 'Mione. And neither do you."

"Don't presume what I want."

His eyes narrowed. "Flint's an Alpha, and an arsehole to boot. I've had my suspicions for a while, but you're an Omega."

Her blood ran cold. Hermione lifted her head, not willing to show her nerves in the slightest. "How do you know if I don't even know?"

He leaned down and sniffed her hair. "Well, it's your smell. Up close, it's unmistakable. From beside you, it's enough to make a well-placed guess, but I've known since the day after I presented."

She hated to sound ridiculous. She was well aware of the mechanics of this, but still. Hermione asked, "I smell?"

Harry chuckled, stepping toward her and tucking a curl behind her ear. "Not badly, no. It's…" he paused, his gaze roaming over her. She wondered if the way his tongue slid against the seam of his lips was subconscious "Intoxicating."

Hermione's skin itched. It wasn't a new sensation. She'd noticed it over the last few weeks, and how she always felt stifled, and how no cooling charm or shower would help her. "So he…?"

She knew, but she didn't fancy saying it.

"He wanted you, wanted to fuck you, and make you take his knot." His eyes were a dark green that made her shiver as he said it.

"If you knew I was in danger, would you know if any other Omega was in trouble?" Oh, gods-her eyes widened-were any others in danger of being raped for simply existing? She couldn't imagine.

"No." he murmured. "I know because it's you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Ginny has it out for you because she knows she and I can't work out."

"Harry, you're not making sense. You're jumping from topic to topic and I don't understand how this relates to knowing I was in danger."

He blew out a breath. "Sometimes, Alphas have mates. It's a bond, which is not sealed until the Omega goes into heat, but the two of us will never work. Not when I want you."

Her mouth dried. "You want me?"

Harry's nervous tick was to run his fingers through his hair. "I do."

"That's not possible," Hermione croaked.

"Why not?"

It was silly, she should have thought. Her reasoning was no more than her most self-deprecating thoughts. "I'm not that pretty," she answered weakly. "Ginny is gorgeous and I just think this must be incorrect."

His gaze dropped to her chest, the edge of a familiar purple scar peeking out. "You're stunning." he murmured, taking a step closer. Harry leaned toward her, his finger hovering just over the waxy flesh. "There is no mistake here. I want you, but I'm not asking you to be with me."

"You're not?" Hermione's voice was scratchy, her eyes widening. "I don't follow."

Harry shook his head, clenching his jaw and in an instant, his frustrations bled through. "I'm not. Fuck, you're with  _Ron_ and as badly as I want to sink into you and beg you to let me have you all to myself, he's my best mate. I can't do that."

Hermione was a quick-witted witch, but the thought of her boyfriend had not crossed her mind once. But she took in what he said. Harry wasn't worried about Ginny, not in the slightest. He gave the impression that the other woman was the last thing that could keep him from closing the gap between them in a Hogwarts alcove at midnight.

And -

Her lips parted. He  _wanted_ her. Oh, Merlin, she was an idiot. Her mind had been stuck on the idea of a relationship, but this was primal. It was all about pushing her to the wall and not letting her go until the sun came up.

"What does this mean?" Hermione's mind was still racing at the implications, the possible consequences of a bond. What would it mean for their friendship in the future?

"Go to Madam Pomfrey in the morning. You need to have the test done regardless, just to confirm, and you need to start taking suppressants." As Hermione opened her mouth to argue, he pinned her with a fierce stare. "For the love of Merlin, please don't argue with me."

It was immature to complain of how she didn't want to take the potions to block her heats if she was an Omega. In a moment, a weak one she admitted, Hermione muttered, "I don't want to be on those fucking potions."

"Do you understand what will happen if you don't? What others will try to do? 'Mione," he pleaded, tilting her head up by her chin. "I know you hate everything about this. Alphas already won't be able to control themselves —"

She glared. "It sounds like  _they_  should be the ones on a potion then if they can't keep their cocks in the trousers!"

He looked like he wanted to kill her or snog her and he couldn't decide which. "Really, that's a fantastic idea to pursue, but if anything, can I convince you to do it for me?"

She blinked. "Like for your peace of mind? I can protect myself, well... normally. I'll be more careful from now on."

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I want you to be safe, but it's more for… fuck!" His fist met the wall over her head. "I'm going to walk you to your dorm, and then we can pretend this," he motioned furiously between them, "never happened."

"I don't want to pretend this never happened!" she snapped.

His eyes widened and he angled himself toward her.

"That's not how I meant it." Hermione conceded when he stepped out from the hidden space. "If we're stopped, I'll explain what happened."

He gave a terse nod. "I didn't want you to find out about this."

"Did you think I wouldn't understand? We've always been close, Harry," she replied softly, wrapping her arms around her middle as a cold chill rolled through the corridor.

He didn't reply until they stopped in front of the portrait. Harry's hand reached toward her, his fingers brushing against her arm. With a low chuckle, he shook his head, which he seemed to be doing an awful lot tonight. "This isn't about how close we've always been. When I told Ron I loved you like a sister, it was mostly a lie. I might have never noticed it, but I've always watched you.

"As I said, this is not about how close we are as friends. This is about the way I can feel your disappointment and your upset when Ron hurts your feelings. Maybe it's something simple - he doesn't notice your hair when you sit in front of the mirror an extra ten minutes, or he snaps at you for being more interested in your studies than the upcoming quidditch match. It's about…"

Her chest rose and fell as she waited, hoping he would finish his thought. "What is it about?" Her curiosity would be the death of her. Hadn't she learned better by now?

Hermione thought he was going to push her to the wall and kiss her.

She didn't want to think about how her heart sank when he didn't.

"It's about the fact that I want to beg you to let me crawl between your thighs and ruin you for anyone else." he murmured and he leaned down. Only a little, only enough to cause her heartbeat to quicken. "You are all I can think about anymore. It's so fucking wrong, and she doesn't know the half of it yet."

"What do you think about me?" Perhaps it was her breathlessness that caused him to remember exactly where they were, who they were, and why this couldn't happen.

His mouth closed and he squeezed his eyes shut. His fists clenched and unclenched. "I'm going to take a walk," she was pretty sure he mentioned a cold shower under his breath, "and then I think we should stay away from the other."

He didn't give her a chance to reply before he took his cloak back and vanished. Hermione wasn't sure if he was still standing there when her eyes filled with tears, hot with what felt like want and shame, all combined into one.

No, she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Hermione had visited the Hogwarts matron the next morning alone. As she waited for the result that she already knew, her mind was spinning. It bounced between Harry and Ron and ultimately back to Harry. As she'd laid in bed the night before, she'd known it was guilt that was slowly gnawing at her insides, picking away at her.

Like Harry said, it was wrong, but there was a sharp tugging in her chest.

A few weeks ago, she had thought nothing of it. It was just her friendship with Harry, but she admitted it was a foolish explanation. Friendships don't feel like there's one cord connecting one to the other.

After taking the potion, and tucking the others in her bag, Hermione went to the one place she knew she would find answers.

The library.

* * *

To put it all very plainly, she was sick of everything. Ron treated her differently, but it wasn't so much that it was a horrible shift in his behaviour. In fact, he was treating her like bloody fine china, like he was intent on cherishing her. The problem was his reasoning.

Her status.

He felt like he'd finally won something, and while she had wanted to keep it a secret, he showed he had zero qualms with letting everyone know  _his_  girlfriend was an Omega. Prized. Treasured. A possession.

She remembered how Harry had promised the two boys would never let anyone treat her as if she was a belonging, a pretty fuck doll to display on a shelf. It was ironic how he boasted of her newfound discovery, especially around Harry. If Ron had known the truth, known the things Harry had said, known the images he'd placed in her head, he would have lost his head.

She felt like she was playing with fire, and she was certain she needed to be logical or she would be burned. On the one hand, there was an undeniable sexual tension that came with being around Harry. It almost felt like the air was sparking, and she couldn't make eye contact. And while Ron might not have noticed, there was little doubt Ginny hadn't.

The redhead was more observant than anyone gave her credit for. She spent the majority of her time around Hermione with a sour disposition, and she didn't include Hermione as she had in the past.

The first time Hermione felt a flare up - her skin burning beneath her clothes in a way a shower could not help - it was two weeks later, and she had been drawn directly to Harry. It was dumb luck that he was alone, but one look at her and he knew.

His hair was still damp from the quidditch showers, droplets of water rolling off stands of inky black hair. He steered her out of sight. Her back met the wall of the structure, and they were neatly tucked away from the castle. His eyes were wide behind wiry frames. "Holy fuck, you're…"

She truthfully didn't know what she was then. An utter clusterfuck of bad luck, Hermione thought sarcastically. "I don't know." she moaned, covering her face with her hands. "I feel like I'm on fire."

She wasn't going into heat, not yet at least, but there was no increasing the dosage of her suppressants. She'd already been to Madam Pomfrey about that.

"I didn't mean to find you, but I kept getting turned around." Hermione murmured, near tears. Coming here felt like cheating, but it wasn't. She  _wasn't_ going to surprise him by pushing him to the wall and snogging him, no matter how many times the image had forced itself into her brain.

"I think you're going into heat," he rasped. Harry's hands twitched, but he kept them safely pinned to his sides. "You need to go to Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione laughed miserably. "I already have. She says there's nothing she can do. It's too dangerous to up a dosage in the onset of a heat."

His features softened. Still, Harry didn't reach for her, his morale still solidly in place. "What did she recommend you do?"

"She told me that I had best take care of it before several Alphas went into rut." Hermione muttered, her face heating up at the implications of what the older woman had said. "She gave me a contraceptive potion before I left. I tried to…" she truly didn't want to say anything about it to Harry, but no matter what, he was still her best friend. "I tried to take care of it."

His "How so?" was nearly primal.

Hermione anchored herself by focusing on the white scar on his hand, a token from Dolores Umbridge. "Different ways, it's not too important."

"'Mione," he sighed, and she broke.

"I tried to satisfy myself first," Hermione whispered, not lifting her head. She was not so used to feeling so helpless, not since the war. And yet in a cruel twist, she knew she was so fucked if Harry didn't cave. It wasn't why she'd come to him, but nonetheless. "My fingers aren't enough. I can't make myself come."

He sucked in a breath, fist uncurling. "Fucking hell." Harry groaned. He shifted his weight, no doubt an attempt to hide an erection.

She didn't look.

She wasn't curious, not at all.

"And then I tried to use Ron." The words were out there, and they couldn't be taken back. She'd blurted it, anxious, and then she finally accepted that no matter what they did, it wasn't as if she'd cheated on her boyfriend. Hermione slowly looked at him, tucking hair behind her ears. "Harry?"

He eyes were shut, his lips pursed in a line. It wasn't quite jealousy that rolled off of him. No, it was more like jealousy. "And you're here because I can give you what you need?"

Hermione flinched at his tone. She shook her head. "No, but I thought you would understand more than anyone else. He was angry with me, and yelled at me when I couldn't orgasm."

"Prick." he snarled.

"I know why you've been ignoring me. I think it was more hurtful than helpful. I needed you when I found out and not because I knew eventually - with this bloody bond - that I would need you to fuck me until I couldn't walk." Hermione crossed her arms, unconsciously rubbing her thighs together. "I broke up with Ron when he lost his temper."

He looped an arm around her waist. Harry pulled her tight against his chest. "Did he hurt you?"

She rested her forehead on his chest. "No, he didn't hurt me. Well, he might have wounded my pride, but physically? Never. He hasn't been acting right since you presented. He's ridiculously jealous."

"It's funny because here I was, jealous of him."

She knew why, but still, she had to ask. "I'm sorry to storm in on you. I don't want to drive a wedge between you and Ginny."

Harry nuzzled her hair, his fingers running along her spine. "We broke up a few days ago. I have no doubt she's upset, but it's definitely not because she's in love with me."

It wasn't right for her mind to cling to the news. "I didn't know."

He nodded. "Of course not. I was avoiding you like a coward."

"You were trying to do the right thing," she argued.

His chest shook below her touch. "Fucking absurd when all the things I want to do to you, with you, when you're dating my best mate would be anything  _but_  the rights thing to do."

Heat pooled between her thighs. "Harry?"

Turning his face into her hair, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, he seemed to have already forgotten. "Mmm?"

"I'm not dating your best mate anymore. I didn't come here to seduce you, so please don't believe I did. But I either need you to take care of me or help me get to the Room of Requirement before…"

The incident with Flint did not need repeating.

"I'll take you to the Room of Requirement." Her heart sank. "But only because I need to be with you where no one can barge in. I hate to say it, and it's definitely just the dominant traits taking over," Harry tugged her hair, tipping her head and kissed her roughly, his tongue barely sliding along the seam of her lips, "but I'm likely to tear them apart if they do."

* * *

Unfortunately, multiple students saw them. A Gryffindor girl a year below them saw how Harry couldn't - wouldn't- keep his hands to himself. Fortunately, Hermione didn't particularly wasn't sure how much she could stand to do so, either.

Books detailed what it felt like, but nothing would have accurately prepared her for the growing slickness between her thighs, the heat below her collar, her nipples stiffening against the cups of her bra. Hermione gripped his hand in her own as they hurried to the seventh floor, both content to ignore various peers gawking at them.

There was no mistaking what they were going to do. Ron and Ginny would know, but that sounded like a problem for her to deal with in the future.

She didn't know what Harry imagined before he ripped her inside. He pressed her to the wall, his hands already sliding down her sides. He gripped her waist, lifting her where she'd wrapped her legs around his hips.

"Please," she whispered weakly, her fingers sliding through the curls at the base of his neck. "Harry, I feel like I'm on fire."

It wasn't as rough as the kiss at the quidditch showers. Rather he held her up easily, leaving his hands to slide over her. His fingers grazed bare skin as her shirt rode up. "I'll take care of you," he groaned as she palmed his cock through his trousers. "Such good care of you." His voice was filled with delicious promises that she wanted to unfold straight away.

She whimpered, pulling the hem of her shirt over her head. "Harry." Hermione's head fell to the door, and his lips slowly moved from her lips to along her jawline, and down her neck.

He whispered how sweet her skin tasted, and how he wondered how sweet her tight cunt would taste beneath his tongue. "Can you imagine?" Harry uttered softly, pulling her from the wall and carrying her across the room. It was luck that the room provided a bed, a rather large one at that, and it dipped beneath their combined weight. "Can I have you that way?"

Dazed and feeling like she was floating below him, Hermione had forgotten the original conversation. "You can have me whatever way you want."

He grinned wickedly, laying her across soft sheets. "Can I? So you'll let me spread your legs and lick your cunt?" Harry was incorrigible and made her nod after each listed item. "What if I want to see you writhe against the bed while I slide my fingers inside of you? You said that your fingers weren't enough. What about mine?" He laid his hand against the apex of her thighs, index finger slowly rubbing her through the denim.

She choked on her agreement.

"And if I want to take you with your legs over my shoulders? On your hands and knees? That section of the wall looks rather sturdy."

Hermione giggled. "Yes, to all of them." She vanished their clothes, every piece, and watched the playfulness evaporate.

Harry leaned over her, his chest barely brushing hers while he kissed her. He rolled onto his back, draping her nude body over his chest while he rubbed her back. "You're stunning." he murmured.

"I want you." she mewled, digging her nails into his chest while she straddled his waist. "I don't want to wait." It had already been long enough. "Please, Harry."

Gripping her hips, he stopped her before she could ride him. "Not that it makes any difference to me, but are you a virgin?"

She would have muttered how sweet he was, how thoughtful he was, but she only shook her head. "I'm not. It's been a long time, and it might be uncomfortable at first, but…" Hermione rolled her hips, the tip of his cock sliding between her folds.

"Oh, fucking Merlin." Harry hissed. "Whatever you want," he growled.

Her moan was loud as she reached down, not breaking eye contact as she slowly slid down his thick length. Hermione braced her palms against his chest, rocking against him, whimpers spilling from her lips. She gasped his name as she rolled her hips.

His hands were everywhere, gripping her hips roughly as he lifted her, bringing her back down and bottoming out inside of her.

She scratched his chest, capturing her bottom lip in between her teeth. "Harry," she keened, rocking her hips against his.  _More, she wanted more._

Already knowing, Harry flipped them easily, pinning her trembling body to the mattress. "So pretty," he murmured, dragging his finger over her breasts, the tip of his finger grazing her nipple. As she arched her back, locking her legs around his waist, he smirked. "I think I like you this way," Harry rasped, his hips snapping forward. "Flushed, and writhing below me."

She clawed at the silk sheets, bunching them in her grip. "Fuck," Hermione whined, her hand sliding down her belly and her fingers circling her clit. "Harry, please!" she gasped as he smacked her hand away.

His stare was dark as it trailed over her skin. "I'll give you what you want," Harry said softly, his thumb rubbing her clit. "I want to give you everything you want."

Gods, she choked. His fingers were so much  _better_ than her own. Late nights in her dorm, curtains drawn and silencing charms had nothing on the way his calloused fingers stroked the bundle of nerves. Hermione whimpered, pressing herself closer to him. "Then fuck me harder."

He stilled, grinning as his palms met the bed and he hovered over her. "Harder?" he murmured, nipping her collarbone. "Can you take it?"

Her eyes were blown wide, her pupils dilated. He was egging her on, only for a moment, but if he didn't move, she was going to snap. When this was over - she gritted her teeth as he continued rubbing her clit - Hermione was going to create a charm for him to feel what it was like to have a heat.

She couldn't complain much at the moment, as long as he kept fucking moving.

"I'm not glass," she growled, sliding her fingers through his hair. "I need you to fuck me as hard as you —" Hermione's scream tore from her throat as he scooped her up.

Her legs were over his shoulders, and he was holding her up with one arm wound tightly around her waist. "Like this?" he groaned. "Gonna come for me, 'Mione?"

She nodded, her nails biting into the muscle of his shoulders. "I need to—"

"I'll take such good care of you," he whispered into her neck.

His words. Merlin's bollocks, his words were going to be her undoing. Hermione, still dazed as he pounded into her, thought she must have said it out loud by his next words.

"Come. Come all over my cock," he nuzzled her neck.

It didn't take much more than that. Hermione shrieked, smashing her lips to his and tightening her legs around his waist. She heard him say in low tones that he would fill her over and over again.

* * *

Hermione woke with her body deliciously sore, her inner thighs slick, and her hair tangled against the pillows. "Mmm," she reached across the bed, but the space was empty. Her eyes opened quickly and she sat up. The sheets settled around her waist, and her breasts were bared.

The room was empty.

"I'm over here," Harry called, and he was sitting in a leather chair that had not been there the night before. "Did you sleep well?" He hadn't bothered with his own clothes. "Come here."

Hermione padded across the plush carpet and straddled his waist. "I slept well. How long was I asleep?"

He shrugged. "Six hours. You should probably sleep more, but I don't think you want to do that, do you?"

Her cheeks coloured. "I want you, again," Hermione whispered. She reached between them, taking his half hard cock in his hand, and stroking it. "Fuck, I want you so badly." The feeling was akin to flames licking her skin.

He picked her up, something she would have argued with were she herself rather than… rather than a dripping and begging mess.

Hermione gazed up at him as he set her on the bed. She wanted to slide to the floor, sink to her knees and wrap her lips around the head of his cock. That was decidedly not what she asked, however. "Have you thought about marking me?"

He froze, but his eyes flicked to her neck, his eyes narrowing. "That's a dangerous question, 'Mione."

She swallowed, venturing, "I've thought about it." Hermione sat on her knees at the edge of the bed, stretching her arms forward and running her hands over his chest. "Can you imagine it?"

She could,  _had_  imagined it. He hadn't let his touch drift near the sensitive spot on her neck, a gland as it was called. She'd imagined as he'd pressed her into the mattress the night before, what would it feel like to his fingers to brush against it? His tongue?

"I've imagined it in vivid detail since the day on the pitch." he swallowed, pressing her back by her shoulders. Harry knelt between her legs, his hands grasping her soft inner thighs.

Her body stiffened as his tongue slide against her folds, gently lavving her. A finger slid into her, then two when she whimpered for more.

It wasn't quite enough to satisfy her, she would need him sinking into her, but this?

"Oh, fuck," she hissed as her back arched.

* * *

She'd lost count of how many times he'd taken her. They were beginning to blur together with her pleading for him to pay special attention to the sensory gland on her neck. " _Please, Harry. I'm already yours, Just —"_

In rare, little moments of clarity, she could remember it wasn't fair to test his limits so far.

Like presently.

Hermione pushed herself back against him, moving and taking him deeper. "Oh," she moaned, burying her face into the pillow. "Harry." Hermione cried.

His fingers slid against her spine. "You're so fucking tight."

"Harry, please. Touch me —"

With a growl, he brushed her hair to the side, the pads of his fingers barely sliding across the gland. It was as much as he was going to give her, and he snarled that it wasn't so smart to keep begging.

* * *

Harry had gotten food brought from the kitchens. He met the house elves and the door, his trousers slung around his hips. The muscles of his back contorted as he took the platter, kicking the door shut behind him.

He fed her a strawberry, a smirk solidly in place. "How do you feel?"

"Horny," she muttered, parting her lips. The fruit was sweet against her tongue, and Hermione climbed into his lap. She wore his quidditch shirt, which might have slightly smelled of sweat before, but now it just smelled like sex. It hung to her mid-thigh, but her knickers were gone and likely destroyed somewhere in the room.

"Merlin," he laughed, "you're insatiable."

She nodded, her tongue sliding along his finger when he fed her another strawberry. "Pretty sure it comes with the whole Omega thing. You know, the part where I beg for you to shove your thick cock into me, knot me, mark me?" Hermione grinned innocently and plucked a strawberry from the bowl. "Want one?"

The bowl clattered to the floor, breaking into three uneven pieces. "I could knot you," he whispered against her jaw, kissing down her neck. "You're on the potion, but I thought I would get you through this heat without —"

She clicked her tongue. "So noble." Hermione hissed. "I want it."

Harry manoeuvred her to where she was still in his lap, but her back was to his chest. "I won't mark you."

"I want to be yours."

His chest rumbled with laughter. "You're mental if you think you aren't already mine," Harry whispered, pulling his shirt over her head. "So wet," he pressed his lips to her spine, fingers sliding through her folds. "Is this for me?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. It sounded like a cheesy line, like something out of a novel.

"I asked you a question," he repeated as two fingers pumped into her.

Hermione rocked against his fingers, her own hands cupping her breasts. "Yes, " she whispered.

Harry's fingers slid out of her. "Lean back," he instructed and slid into her cunt with one thrust.

Hermione's head fell to his shoulder as she gasped his name. He whispered to her, telling her how pretty she was as she writhed in his lap, moaning his name and begging for it harder.

"Pull your hair to the side." Harry murmured, placing open mouthed kisses against her shoulder. "I'm not going to mark you, Hermione. Not when you're half out of your mind." Rather, his tongue flattened against the sensitive skin. Harry gently lapped at her, holding up steady as she began to shake.

"Oh, Gods," Hermione mewled, her movements frenzied as she rocked against him. And then she was near sobbing as he continued his tongue a soft, but firm pressure against the mating gland.

His teeth scraped it as his cock began to swell, and he murmured, "Gonna knot your pretty tight cunt."

She gasped for air, gripping the sides of the chair as his movements slowed. He was stretching her, but there wasn't the pain she'd imagined.  _I mean, being stretched to accommodate_ should  _hurt, by all logic._ Hermione moaned his name, his designation. He paid special attention to her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples.

Feeling impossibly full, Hermione slumped against him. "I think I'm going to come." she whimpered, wriggling her arse in his lap. "Fuck!"

Harry reached around, rubbing her sore clit. "Sweet Omega," he rasped, nuzzling the back of her neck, his teeth sliding against the gland again.

Her scream could have brought the entire castle down around their ears.

* * *

When they returned to classes, she expected a fallout. Either from Ron or Ginny or for the judgements of their peers to bother her. Only none of it got under her skin at all. Ron was furious, but one word out of turn toward her had caused Harry to nearly be expelled.

He needed to get his protective streak under control or she would hex him herself. She could protect herself.

Ron was upset, unsurprisingly so, when his girlfriend - recently turned ex-girlfriend - had landed in the lap of his best friend immediately. For the moment, he wasn't talking to either of them.

Ginny wasn't angry, not that Hermione could see anyway. She'd only given a slow nod to the two of them.

As for the rest of the school, it wasn't likely anyone would say something out of turn to Harry Potter or Hermione Granger.

"You reckon they'll ever stop staring?" Harry asked, his hand securely locked in hers as they made their way to the library.

Hermione didn't much care for the group of sixth year Ravenclaws. She shrugged. "I think they're baffled by the fact that you fucked me for three days straight last month." True, there had been no hiding exactly what had happened that weekend.

He chuckled. "How are you feeling? You were worried about your exams this morning."

Hermione's face darkened. "It's a mess, Harry." she murmured, making her way into the library and leading him to the back of the room "Plus, I have a personal project I've been working on and - that's not fair." Hermione shuddered as he swept her hair to the side and pressed his lips to the mark on her neck.

He'd picked up on how it was the best way to calm her whenever she was wound so tightly he thought she might snap. "Breathe, 'Mione. What's this personal project about? You've never mentioned it."

She grinned. "Well, I think it's unfair that you have no idea how it feels for me to be in heat, so I've created a charm."

His eyes widened. "A… charm? What sort of charm?"

Hermione tapped his nose. "The kind that induces symptoms of a heat so you'll learn to never tease me when I'm begging again," she whispered, but her tone was utterly flippant. "How does this weekend sound? Room of Requirement?"

Never one to back down from a challenge, Harry nodded before pressing her to the bookshelf and sliding his hand beneath her skirt. "Sure."


End file.
